Before the Pearly Gates
by Sir Gawain of Camelot
Summary: The story of what happens to Angel after death... Warning: slight religion mocking.


I had seen several fics on this, and wanted to give my take on it. This is an entirely un-betaed form right now, written on the spur of the moment. If anyone would like to volunteer to beta, I'd be happy for it. I'll repost the chapter if someone betas it. Story titles would be welcome as well.

Angel's POV

The world gets kind of blurry around me, like it's slowly fading out, and is replaced by some sort of poofy white tunnel. I decide, what the heck, let's see what's at the end. As Peter Pan once said 'to die will be an awfully big adventure.'

The poofy white tunnel keeps on going and going, and I'm getting tired of poofy whiteness. A girl can only take so much of it, you know? Abruptly there's a desk in the poofy whiteness, and it looks out of place. The desk was a genuine antique, but still. I'm hoping whoever designed wherever I'm going has better color taste than whoever decorated the tunnel there. Monochrome is so _boring!_

There's a guy at the desk, who sort of gives me a weird look. He has a book in front of him that he opens up when I come near. I swear it got bigger, too…

He clears his throat. "Angel Dumott Schunard." He says. I frown, because he pronounced it wrong.

"It's 'Ain-gel', sweetie, not 'Ahn-hail.'" I sighed, shaking my head. "You'd think you'd know that. I've been going by 'Ain-gel' since I was fifteen. Does that book not give you pronunciations?" I'm honestly curious. I didn't expect um… what's-his-name, I'm not clear on religion, to be a harried-looking oldish man in – I surpressed a grin – a long white drag. I wonder if anyone has to wear those. I'm still wearing - no, wait, I'm not. Well, it's a relief I don't show up in that horrid hospital gown. I seem to have mysteriously changed into one of my favorite outfits on the trip. I wonder if I could do something else. I imagined a pair of shoes I had seen on my last trip out with Mimi. Looking down I saw my shoes give a kind of half-flicker. Scowling at them, I tried harder. Ping! I kid you not. There was a ping. And the new shoes were there. I grinned widely and bounced up and down. Mimi just had to see this. Well, on second thought, I'd rather she didn't for a good, long time.

The guy – I would have to ask his name- looked up when I started bouncing. He sighed. "I don't think there's a real contest for you. You go through here."

When he said here he made a flicking motion the wall of the poofy white tunnel. It cracked open, and there was this yellow light coming out. No sound, just a yellow light. I took a step back and shook my head. "Not yet, honey. I'm waiting for someone. Someones. Once the rest of the family gets here we'll go together." I gave his my best smile.

He sighed. "If we let everyone who was waiting for someone say here, we'd be flooded with old ladies and men. And kids, and young men and women, and the other side of that gate would be practically empty."

I shook my head. Looked like I was going to have to haggle with him. "I could be a welcome wagon. No offence, but it took a bit of a long time for you to look through my life and decide, and I didn't live that long. We wouldn't want the poor dead people to get bored, would we? And some of them will be scared. I bet they could use someone to cheer them up!" The guy shook his head.

"It's a nice idea, but you really don't know what you're getting yourself into. We had someone else do that. They lasted four people. Then the fifth was a young man who fell on a land mine. Not a pretty sight. They went right through after that."

"And I think I'm made of tougher stuff than that. If not, hey, at least give me a chance?"

He sighed and shook his head again. "Alright, I'll run it by the boss. But keep in mind, His word is law. If He says no, He means it."

He picked up a telephone that I looked at in interest. He gave me a small smile. "He likes to keep things modern. One day I'm going to be picking up the hand-held video Tele-whatever to tell Him things." He dialed. "Hi." Pause "Yes, it's me. Who else?" Pause. "Well, yes. I have something to ask you." Pause. "No, not about the break. We have another welcome wagon volunteer." Pause. "_Yes,_ I remember the old one, but it won't hurt giving him-" I shot a mild look at him "her – a chance, will it?" Pause. "Angel Dumott Schunard." He moved the phone away from his ear just in time. I could hear the explosion of laughter from where I was standing.

I crossed my arms, a wee bit insulted. "What's so funny about my name?"

"He just finds it funny someone named Angel wants to welcome people here." he assured me. "Don't worry, it's a point in your favor."

The phone quieted, and he put it back to his ear. "Yes, her name is Angel." Pause. "Really? Yes." Pause. "Until the rest of her family gets here." Pause. "I have not idea. About the human lifetime I'd say."

"Maybe shorter." I put in. "They're all over twenty now. There'll be three of them coming to join us soon. As in over the next ten years." On the hopeful side, but that's where I always looked.

"Maybe a bit shorter." The receptionist added into the phone. "There will be three here long before that, so we'll have a party of three." Pause "Whenever she wants to, I guess. I'm not going to keep her here if she wants to go over." Pause. "Yes, sir. I'll tell her." He put down the phone.

I looked at him anxiously. "So what's the verdict? Can I stay?"

He nodded. "You can. You also just have to say the word to go over. I was told to give you this." He said, flicking at the wall on opposite side from the glowing door. A window-sized hole appeared in the wall. "The boss really has taken a liking to you." He hesitated before going back to his desk. "How many family members are there?"

"Six." I said. There were six window-sized holes now.

"Tell them who you want to see." Prompted receptionist-man. I told the windows. They sprang to life, showing… at this moment the same scene from six different angles. I chose one. What were the chances that I would get them working just in time for my funeral? It was on Halloween…. How fitting. That has always been my favorite holiday. No one was in costume… a shame, really.

I smiled as I watched my funeral, tears in my eyes through the whole thing. I laughed at Markie's pronoun slip, and outright cried when Collins went up. It was our song – the one we sang together.

I couldn't help but wince when I saw what happened just after my funeral, everyone fighting. Come on, everyone. You were together before I got there, you can stay together now… But apparently they couldn't. Only time would resolve this, but I had faith it would be resolved. I know someone up here likes me.

There was a short silence after I turned away from the windows, and I decided to ask what the man's name was. He looked over from where he was looking at some paper-or-other, said "Peter." Then was quiet again. There went my attempt at conversation. Then the first person came though. It was a baby, I wouldn't say more than a few moths old, and he looked like he had suffered a blow to the head. It was terrible that someone so little could die.

I rocked him and shushed him until he was quiet. It took a rather short time, considering he had just died. By the time he was quiet the ugly dent in his head had un-dented and the ugly bruise had slowly faded until he was a perfectly beautiful, whole-looking baby again. Once he was quiet, Peter flicked the bright gate, rung a bell, and someone came out. A small, blond, female someone to be exact. She came over to be and took the baby, then went back toward the gate. Just before she stepped through the gate she turned around and asked, "Aren't you coming?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Not today, honey. I'm waiting for someone."

Her eyes lit up in comprehension. "Oh! You're the new welcome wagon, Angel, aren't you? Don't look so surprised. News travels fast." She glanced at the windows in the wall, but didn't say anything. "Then I'll see you once that someone gets here. I'm Amy." She said, stepping into the light and disappearing.

My curiosity piqued by what had happened to the baby, I looked down at myself. The place had had a regenerating affect on me too. You could no longer see the individual bones in my arms, and my veins did not stand out in both a color sense and an actual sense. I was back to normal too.

The baby was not the last that day. I calmed hysterical boys and girls, talked with a rather sad old woman, laughed with a cheerful little girl who had died of cancer, and stayed far away from a drunk, violent, perverted middle-aged man.

That night, I saw Collins sitting alone in our apartment, just sitting on the bed. I knew him well enough to know he was losing it. I needed to talk to him. I needed to convince him life was worth living. So I asked.

Peter seemed hesitant at first, but when I told him it was just this once, and why I needed it, he relented, and gave me what looked like a microphone. He told me to touch it to the window of the person I wanted to talk to. I did. "Collins?" I asked it. I couldn't hear my voice in the window, but I saw Collins jump and look around.

"Angel…?" He whispered. I could barley hear him. I smiled, ok good. He could hear me. "Yes, it's me. Just this once. I don't think I'll be able to do this again, so listen up." He nodded. "You look like you're going to give up, baby. Don't. Live out the life you have. No regrets, remember honey? I'll be here when it's your time, but if you give up before then that I'll never forgive you, got that? I'll be there to listen if you want to say something. I love you, and give my love to the rest of the family. No day but today. Live for me, baby."

He burst out crying, but nodded. "I will, Angel. I will. I love you too."

I gave the mike back to Peter and thanked him. He nodded in acknowledgement.

Ok, peeps. This is my first fic period. Not just my first RENT fic, so be nice.


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